


"What's Your Favorite Color?"

by crescentlunae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Kinda, The Marauders - Freeform, a question is answered with an encounter, i hope you all like it, it's marauders era but james and lily, just a quick read something cute as my first post on here, okay these are enough tags right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7740256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentlunae/pseuds/crescentlunae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James never knew what to say when he was asked what his favorite color was, but maybe someday that would change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"What's Your Favorite Color?"

**Author's Note:**

> A one shot. A meeting. A backstory. And a promise of stories to come.
> 
> thank you so much for clicking on my first fic on here. hope you like it!

He never knew why he liked it so much.

He never wore darker colors— always managing to keep his wardrobe filled with warm, rich reds and happy yellows.

He was not fond of plants— as he always managed to make them die— and he was not one to eat anything of that color as most children refrained from doing. Even when playing his favorite sport, that color was never in his field of vision. He was surrounded by various blues, fluffy whites, greys from time to time, and only when it was time to come back down from the skies was he able to see that color.

“But, why is it your favorite?”

As a child, responses were simple. “I just like it! It’s cool!" 

As he got a bit older, and people began to expect a bit more out of him, all he could do was shrug and flash a smile. “It’s nice to look at.”

Sometimes, it would go as far to occupy his thoughts for hours on end.

How could someone like that color? Most people tended to like brilliant blues like the color of deep oceans, clear skies, mild summer nights, or clear lakes. Maybe fiery reds like the color of romantic flowers, bold lipsticks, or the light bathing the room in its warm glow during the winter.

But, this color?

It brought to mind the color of sickness, decay, a sluggish and muggy atmosphere, and the worst curse of them all.

How could someone who was only ever showing such an exuberance for life be fond of such a morbid color? What reason could be good enough to hold such a color in high regard, enough to make it one’s _favorite_?

Yet, he failed to see how so many could not understand the richness, the mystery, the allure that it held.

Such a silly thing to fuss over, but James could never manage to escape that question. It occupied his thoughts on more occasions than he would care to admit. Someone with his pride and his sureness? How dare he show that something so trivial could incessantly bother him.

Even now, as he walked into the Great Hall, eyes trained upon him as he heard whispers of fear, excitement, and giddiness from his fellow first years, all James could do was question why he liked that color so much. He didn’t care for the House that would brand him in it. He was not jealous of the people who were wearing that color either.

So, why?

As the ceremony began, James was made painfully aware of the silence around him as he was nudged forward by students lining up to await their turn on the old stool.

Letting his eyes flash up, he began to watch the sorting. Some went to the yellow and blue houses, some went to the red house— but he always seemed to let his eyes stay a bit too long on those who went to the green house.

He wondered if it was their favorite color too.

He was about to give up on the whole idea, letting his hand run through his mop of hair and face creased in frustration, when something made him freeze in mid-action.

He was stupefied.

Breath caught in his throat and mouth slightly ajar, the most vivid shade of emerald green had locked onto his own hazel hued eyes.

Even when they broke off their gaze from his, James could not imagine parting away from that color ever again. Even when she got down from the stool, making her way over to the table next to him, he could easily spot those eyes as her dark red hair created the perfect frame. 

Only when he finally heard his name echo throughout the hall did he finally snap out of his stupor. Making his way up the steps he took his seat on the high stool with a flourish. Confidence and a surge of self-assurance ran through him as he crossed his arms and made himself comfortable on the seat. He gave the adult only a bit of acknowledgement, enough to note her stern face and slight displeasure— most likely due to him not hearing his own name the first time it was called.

Cocking his head to the side, a broad grin flashed its way onto his features. He did not need to hear the magical hat say what house he was in. He already knew. The hat had not even touched his head before shouting out “Gryffindor!” 

The wave of yellow and red streaks in front of him only confirmed what he had known.

He was in a house that suited him best, but he found his home in a pair of eyes with his favorite color.

Making his way towards the table that would seat him for the next seven years, he walked with a swagger already knowing exactly where he was going and who he was going to sit beside. Confidence, pride, and knowing were his armor, and nothing could put a dent in it. It was not until he reached the girl, shoving his way in between her and some other first year that he made eye contact with her again, only vaguely hearing a noise of protest.

“James Potter,” he said, extending his hand out to her and committing that exact shade of green to memory and not daring to breathe in fear of rupturing that perfect vision of bright brilliance.

“Lily Evans,” she stated, giving his hand a good shake and a kind smile. 

James’ heart skipped a beat, but his overconfidence and troublemaking attitude got the best of him. “Lily? Like Lilypad?” he asked, still transfixed on those radiant green eyes, all the while wearing a cocky grin on his face that would soon become infamous to everyone around him.

Lily immediately burned a bright red. “No, Lily as in Lily. Lilly Evans, and you’d do well to remember that!” she retorted, fuming after being teased and immediately retracting her hand. Folding her arms, and deeply annoyed, she directed her attention back to the ceremony, already making plans to avoid this boy for the rest of her days. The nerve— it hadn’t been a day yet and she was already being teased!

“Oh, I will,” was James's only reply as he too turned his attention back to the ceremony. A smile, softer than one the old school had yet to see, graced his face.

  
_‘I think I’ve found a good enough reason.’_

**Author's Note:**

> Fin.  
> that's it! super sweet, super cheesy, and super light and fun to read. i've always had this idea that james' favorite color was green, but lily sorta solidified that fact, and now I've finally written it! tell me what you think? i know "lilypad" is so overused, but I couldn't help myself— especially when we're talking about colors. 
> 
> anyways, thanks for reading!
> 
> (and don't worry, not all my fics will be this short and sweet)


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